George and Numair: Partners in Crime
by Stripy Giraffe
Summary: Lots of George, lots of Numair, lots of crime, lots of black velvet, lots of money... what more could you want?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING!

Righto, for the first time EVER I think I might just write the story….

GEORGE AND NUMAIR – PARTNERS IN CRIME.

On gallant black stallions, two men in black velvet cloaks rode into the village in the dark of night. They looked like dark shadows, almost invisible. They stopped just before the hooves or the horses would have clattered across the cobble on the road.

The two men were clothed entirely in black velvet. They had black velvet gloves on their hands, black velvet boots on their feet, with silent velvet soles, and black velvet masks across their faces.

The dark shadows swung themselves off their horses and walked soundlessly to the bank. Both their eyes were focused on one thing: The door to the precious building. It was entirely vital that they could get through that: There were no windows, no other weak spots in the building.

The door was locked. The taller man pulled a small gadget out of his pocket and stuck it on the door. The two men then hurried around the corner and the other man pulled a remote control out of his belt, quickly pushing a large red button. They had no time to lose. With a small 'whooosh', the door was no longer a problem.

With large black velvet sacks the men stepped into the large dark hall. They couldn't afford to turn any lights on and went straight for the safe behind the counter. Two lock picks took care of the small matter of the lock. The two men then took bundles and bundles of money from the safe and stuffed them into the velvet sacks. They then left a small card on the front desk:

_You have been robbed by_

_The Partners In Crime_

_To get your money back_

_Leave your soul on this desk_

_TOMORROW NIGHT._

Silently, in black velvet soled boots, the two men padded their way out again. The walked through the open, broken door, taking their time to walk back to their horses. There was no hurry any more. Both of them swung a now bulky black sack over their shoulder, and mounted their horses. Spurring them on, they both galloped into the darkness, side by side.

The village remained behind, cold and black.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine, I say! Jolly well!

Okay, now a lot of you have said really strange stuff which confused me a lot in your reviews, I would just like to take a moment to address those... first of all, one of you said 'Why would George and Nummy steal money?' Well, as you may have realised, before this chapter, there was only one chapter. Most stories do end up having more than one chapter. This is one of those... obviously you cannot tell the whole story from the first chapter (UNLESS of course it's a one-shot... and if you can't tell the whole story from the first chapter in a one-shot, something is seriously wrong). So just wait and see!

Someone else said something... not totally sure what it was but here are some key words... George, Black Velvet, Drool... sorry but this is possibly a bit wrong. Anyway, I'm just going to write the story.

Chapter 2

"I cannot believe this happened, I just cannot believe it!" said the Lord Major at the town meeting the next morning. "Leave our souls? I just will not do it!"

"Well, what do _you_ propose we do, Major Pompous?" cried a ratty old woman from the back of the hall. A lot of people thought she was a witch.

"I do not know, I just do not know what we will do!" cried the Major.

"Well, I for one am willing to leave _my_ soul," said the witch woman.

"We will have none of that, thank you very much!" replied the Major. "And if you will just listen, I think I have a way to restore the funds... how about a cookie drive? Everybody likes cookies!"

"I have a machine that extracts souls," said a mad scientist from the front. "It's just a prototype, but it does work..."

"By Mithros, I'll do it!" yelled the witch. And the scientist and the witch ran from the hall.

The scientist attached a suction cap to the witch's forehead, which was connected to a long tube. She pulled a large wooden lever and suddenly the witch's eyes rolled back into her head, and she started to shake violently.

"I'd better get my trust fund back," she said between shakes.

And then it was over... she stopped shaking, and came back to life. She had no soul, but she was alive... enough for a witch. And she stumbled back to her home to make a new soul in her cauldron.

She scientist found a glass bottle sitting on a shelf and held it under a tap coming from the machine, turning it so that a clear liquid ran out into the bottle. She whacked a cork on it and took it out across the road to the bank, setting it on the table where the note had been left by the robbers. He frowned at what they had said... what would anyone be doing with other people's souls? But he dismissed the thought at once. It didn't matter... now they had a new soul to play with, they would leave this town alone.

Okay, that's it for now!

A lot of people wanted to know what time this is set in. Good bloody question, if only I knew the answer! I can only say, the same time as TP wrote the book, in the medieval period... George and Numair just have very advanced gadgets.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine

Well, time for a new chapter, even though it's been… like, a year since I started this.

Chapter 3

Night fell on the village like a blanket, warm and thick and masking all. In the dead blackness, a familiar but feint 'clip clop, clip clop' sounded on the cobblestone. Two masked men swept themselves onto the ground soundlessly and began their trek up to the bank.

It had worked. They had a soul, right there, before them. One of the masked men took it and held it up, examining it as closely as he could in the pitch dark, using a candle.

"It's a strange one," he whispered hoarsely, "it'll go well with the others."

The major tapped the microphone.

"It was a success! Our money is back and everyone has had their funds restored."

The crowd roared. The witch shuddered.

Past the forests and the oceans and the towns, eventually all the landscape washed into nothingness. A brief wind and sand… and hidden behind nothing at all was a small lank shack.

The place was silent, but not empty. There was no sound, one could see no action – but there was a presence there. Two, in fact.


End file.
